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Posts Tagged ‘Shopping’

Misunderstood Fashion

In Did You See This?, Street Seens on March 5, 2013 at 9:49 am


The homecoming queen of Mesopotamia High, an adventurous princess of impeccable breeding and looks, spent a randy afternoon with her BFF’s boyfriend.
A little bondage, a little erotic asphyxiation & a lot of fellatio.
Her scant clothes were laying in pieces all over the house when she realized he was IMing pictures of her to BFF.
Furious she grabbed a clean sheet and stalked out after motherfucking him a few times.
She covered her head and face to hide her sweat matted hair, the marks on her throat, her bee stung lips and the blush that kept covering her face when she thought of the games they had played. She made sure to hide the ligature abrasions on her wrists and ankles.
The paparazzi camped outside the castle recognized her and posted pictures of her novel dress- which soon went viral.

Soon all the girls mimicked the look & their mother’s disapproved- for a while- and then embraced it.


How to Find This

In Did You See This? on September 11, 2012 at 4:14 pm

I have no idea if any of this means anything- Frankly I’m not even sure how much I care about people reading me, outside of a few women I flirt with and authors I admire.


Is there some significance to “Push Girls” being so popular a search term? Is it a popular show? All I know is the subway ad just jumped out at me & that I made some crass comments.

Here is my original post.

The caning thing- I don’t want to go near.

Here is that post.

I wish people had found me in 200 ways. I don’t know what if anything any of it means, other than there should be spell checkin google.First comes the ranking, second the search term, third the number of searches that got someone to standup2p and lastly is my inane observation….
1- push girls- 41- Who Knew? Add all the wheelchair references and there is a trend of which I was unaware.
2- standup2p- 38- OK so someone is looking for me.
3- rattan cane- 35- Who knew how popular canes were until “Shades of Gray”
4- bernie goetz- 12- Why?
5- 12- OK so someone is looking for me
6- sexy white girl- 11- Blah, Blah
7- sexy little white girls- 10- Blah, Blah
8- wheelchair woman- 7- Hmm
9- sexy little white girl- 6-
10- inshallah clothing- 6- Other than the Pic I took I have never seen any more references to this
11- missing black girls- 6-
12- sexy little girls- 5-
13- richard francis burton– 4- You should know who he is.
14- sexy kid girl- 4-
15- brown kid- 4-
16- cane rattan- 4- Oops
17- does god have a favorite color- 4- Argyle
18- thermite welding anvil- 3- Who else knows what this is?
19- white girl turns black- 3-
20- bank walkers- 3-
21- colin ferguson- 3-
22- craftsman circle h- 3-
23- tim allen’s chrome roofing hammer- 3-
24- shelbi evans lawan missing?- 3-
25- rattan works- 3-
26- how do i find out the value of my craftman circle h ratchet- 3-
27- volunteers protest- 3-
28- black females gone missing- 3-
29- little white girl- 3-
30- “push girls”- 2- Wheely?
31- value of craftsman h-circle ratchet- 2-
32- white woman turns black- 2-
33- lirr train wreck- 2-
34- who was the teen girl reported missing 2 years ago- 2-
35- a teen girl reported missing more than two years ago told police- 2-
36- push girls sundance- 2-
37- wheelchair irish- 2-
38- amundsen smoking- 2-
39- google.gym- 2-
40- hammer outlier 8d nail- 2-
41- missing black women- 2-
42- why our parents put us to shame- 2-
43- “kids don’t have a little brother working in the coal mine”- 2- This should have a higher rank.
44- shelbi lawan evans- 2-
45- “bank walkers” show offs- 2-
46- sexy little girl- 2-
47- protest cd covers- 2-
48- rattan cane wiki- 2-
49- katrina bad shoot- 2-
50- sears cast iron anvil- 2-
Here is more

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Bank Walkers and Locker Room Code .2

In Be a Guy, Thoughtful- Items I'd Like you to Read on September 3, 2012 at 12:03 am

This is an updated & expanded version of an earlier piece of the same name.
This version originally appeared in The Good Men Project which has given me an oppurtunity to reach a larger audience and done something with my spelling.

In the Peoples Republic of Mass years ago; visiting my brother, I end up going to the pool club with my wife, daughter, infant son, Sister-in-Law, nephew and infant niece.

As we ready to leave, the babies are with the mommies and my nephew and I are in the men’s locker room. I’m a little peeved because if I weren’t here this 8-year-old would be in the women’s room.

In the locker room I tell PC to drop his suit near our locker- we don’t care about being naked- and not to wrap his towel around his wet body.  You want it dry after a shower.
We finish showering, go back to the locker, and I put my shorts on immediately. My nephew starts in with his T-shirt. I’m dressed in maybe a minute and he’s still dicking around with his top. So I ask what he’s doing and he hems and haws a bit until I ask ‘hasn’t your Father taught you anything?”
“First thing you put on your pants. There are two theories about this:
1- if this place catches fire you can walk right out with your money and car keys.
2- If there is some guy scoping your package in here; you don’t want to lead him on.
Next you put on your shoes:
1- if you’re leaving in a fire, shoes are handy.
2- You don’t know what’s growing on the floor here.
Your shirt is last; you hung out at the pool without a shirt.
And most importantly: we must be waiting when your Mom and Aunt come out of their locker room. Job one is to be sitting outside and asking them ‘What took you so long?’”

And I hear a gentle voice inquire “Does he really need to hear that kind of thing?” I turn and consider this character, maybe 5 years older than I, which makes him prime hippie age, in a (I shit you not) “Save the Whales” T-shirt . For all I know he’s my brother’s neighbor, but I just have to reply “Yes I think he does. This is how it was explained to me and it’s worked out pretty well and I intend to have harsh words with my brother about him not knowing this. And now I’m going outside with my nephew and discuss how it might or might not mean something when a stranger strikes up a conversation in the locker room”.

To the best of my knowledge I will now have a heart attack on an elliptical machine for divulging these secrets to a mixed gender crowd, my nephew never did.

There are two types of guys- Bank Walkers, as they say in Texas, are guys who are unashamed about their nakedness. My father was a bank walker; as are my brother and I, so are my sons.
[Evidently, LBJ was a bank walker with a hog that would fill a Ten Gallon Hat. I picked up the term from an interview with one of his aides. It’s a reference to while most boys will hide their nakedness and enter & leave the creek as close as possible to their clothes “bank walkers “strut up and down looking for a better place to dive in or to show off their manhood. LBJ may be the all time bank walker. He would leave the door to the bathroom, in the Oval Office, open and insist his aides continue conversations while he took a shit. That’s a little too intimate for me.]

The rest of the guys may or may not be sissies. At one time I thought only latent homosexuals were worried about hiding nascent erections caused by being around other naked men and consequently were embarrassed by nudity. On a business trip with my Father we stayed at the Union League Club with a male only no swim suit pool and it seems to me that there were Y’s (before the Village People) where one swam naked.  Years later I ended up utilizing a gym in Chelsea where I was one of the few straights and noted there were walkers and hiders in that crew, too. (So I backed off the homosexual angle and now blame poor upbringing.) This was a place where the steam room was closed by order of the health department and there were signs in the locker room advising that sex would not be tolerated and I don’t recall any erections. Say what you want about me and that last and next observation. I don’t maintain eye contact with strange men- I watch their center of gravity and hands, where an attack will originate. There are Chelsea bank walkers with bull pizzles and with peckers like a scared turtle.

The Chelsea club was pretty humorous- hard boys in Daisy Mae cutoffs, sleeveless Flannels and Timberlines. Older guys in designer exercise outfits. Everybody is chatting with, spotting for and wiping sweat up for each other.  I’m on the treadmill one day and remark to one of the few women there that I must really be over the hill, not one guy has said hello in the six months I was a member.  She asked how did I think she felt, not one guy even eyed her. Well I opined, nothing personal, but you’re the wrong flavor  for this crowd; me I couldn’t get laid here, or a woman’s prison, if I stapled a $50 bill to my forehead. She didn’t disagree.

My sons are now involved in High School athletics. They are bigger, faster, stronger and more skilled than my teammates and I ever were. The equipment and uniforms are space aged. Hell, my first year playing football there was a galvanized water tub, a dipper and salt tabs. There is one thing missing: towels. Wet towels on hot days draped over their heads and towels around the coaches necks on cold days. Towels filled with ice on abrasions and bruises. Evidently High School kids no longer shower at school- one of my sons is a rare user of the locker-room shower and has to bring his towel. For me showers were a luxury as were clean towels. Unlimited hot water was a rare commodity. The folks went out and I took a tank draining shower. I stood under a scalding shower between classes to sweat off pounds and jumped rope in the shower room with 8 heads going to make weight. My mother assigned each of us a towel for the week and in school I got a clean towel daily. As my rank on the athletic food chain rose so did the number of towels the managers would give me.  The season I won the states (a small trophy in a small division) I received an armload of towels daily some of which went to insulating my rubber suit. Nothing said varsity letter like one towel around your hips, another around your neck and a third drying your hair. My old wrestling coach blamed MTV for kids not showering at school anymore: “They are embarrassed at not having that MTV six-pack”. I believe that MRSA and ringworm attacks are directly linked to not showering immediately.  Of course Jerry Sandusky types may also have had something to do with the drop off in hanging around the locker room.

Why Does It Always Have to Be Me? With Storm Update

In Be a Guy, Thoughtful- Items I'd Like you to Read on August 23, 2011 at 1:28 pm

My two eldest are small and playing at the end of the drive. I hear the bass beat and death metal from a driverless CJ-5. I wheel to watch it blow the stop sign. The kid at the wheel has dropped her joint and is reaching down to find it and is unseeable for twenty-five yards. I yell for my kids to freeze, toss a handful of gravel at the jeep and holler some encouragement. The kids and I head in for some lunch.

Shortly, the missus calls from the front because there is some irate woman on our stoop. The Neighbor (and I go around a bit concerning what may or may not have happened. Whether or not rocks got tossed at “her child” is discussed. I ask how old her child is – “Eighteen” – and explain that my kids are children, three and four, her’s can vote and drive and that the next time her little sweetheart blows the stop sign at 40, we’re going to have more than harsh words. Had her “child” stopped they would be looking for the car keys in the storm sewer. I’m making tuna, and a cop shows up at my door. We spar a bit, and finally I ask him, *** “Where do you want to go with this?” He asks what I mean and I tell him I’m about 30 seconds from telling him to send someone in a tie to investigate this as I’m about to clam up. He puts away his notebook and we discuss it like guys. He asks “Where do I want to go with this?”I suggest that maybe there was a misunderstanding, but, as I understand these things, I can go down the street and say something, then this irate homeowner might say something harsh, the next thing we know, it’s some kind of white trash war ,my dog is poisoned and her garage is aflame… So maybe he should go down the street and suggest it was all a big misunderstanding. He’s about my age and which means he’s been around, I’m speaking in a jocular way and we’re guys while she’s a menopausal maniac. We high-five each other and get on with our day. And I am deeply on my wife’s Shitlist. Soon it is Halloween. The people down at the end of the block are out of the house behind mold remediation and have left a bushel basket sized witches kettle of candy out front on the honesty system. We’re headed up the street: the wife, neighbor and our kids. A couple of teens stroll out of the gate with the kettle of candy. The two women turn and suggest I have to say something. I decline the opportunity reminding them of how much trouble I got into chastising the teen for blowing the stop sign. I, finally, agree to deal with the problem if they both cut me some slack the next time. I wait for these dummies and ask “which one of you shit heads really thought all that candy was for you?” They mumble a bit and apologize and try to hand over the kettle. I tell them “Get Lost — carry it back yourselves”, and when they return the kettle I make them empty the candy from their pillow cases into the kettle. Read the rest of this entry »

Fashion Statement

In Thoughtful- Items I'd Like you to Read, Work on July 28, 2011 at 7:22 pm

I get a call to look at some work down in the lower village and head down to meet Jameson or Christopher or Roberto — no … Renaldo.

(Let’s not get into the imposition of three-syllable names. Who’s got that kind of time?)
On entering, I can tell that this is “some kind of fancy” little boutique. Long on the subdued lighting with jewelry brightly displayed and starkly dispersed in antique glass cases. The tiny price tags hanging from tampon strings, discreetly turned ink down, notify me I won’t be shopping here.

I’m wearing, basically, the same clothes I’ve worn for 40 years:

Khakis or Levis.

A 100-percent cotton button-down shirt — probably blue.

Utilitarian watch for jewelry.

Some kind of boots — it’s a long story.

A blazer — I grew accustomed to the pockets in high school.

Vaguely I feel like a turd in the punch bowl, a zebra at the paddock.

There are a few skinny sales women — too skinny for my taste and a wisp of a guy, fresh from the band box. He glides over and, like a pro, asks if I’m looking for “something special”.

I know I’m here to meet a potential client who may possibly have learned about the stores I’ve built in three weeks. We need the work. But I gotta say it-
“I don’t know about special; I’m looking for Renaldo”.

He pauses disappointed for a moment, then perks up.  “Is Reynaldo your personal shopper?”

Game, set & match skinny boy.  I’m speechless and incredulous for a few moments…

I can’t help myself.

“Let me ask you a question: “Does anything about me look like a guy with a personal shopper?” It’s just my opinion, but, if I’m a client, maybe Reynaldo dropped the ball.”


What I’m thinking is:

Does this look like a fashionable ensemble a pro would choose?

Would someone really pay Reynaldo good money to put this together?

I have to tell you I have a whole closet full of this stuff and I’m going to stock up now if it’s going to get expensive.

And, god bless him he doesn’t say “No, but you certainly do look like you need one.”


Do Those Pants Make You Look Fat? Ask the Internet

Hand to Hand- 7/27

In Mobile Updates, Pictures on July 27, 2011 at 2:47 pm

The rules are simple- Found items small enough to be palmed and photographed with the BBerry camera.

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